The Fall Of Efrafa

The warren is empty tonight,
blood spills on toiled ground
fur will hang in ragged clumps
Upon the hedgerows

Peace is lost to us now,
a fettered ideal x 2

They are the warmongers
And they will make our laws
A paw will fall upon the weak
They will mark the day

In death we make our charge, our last lament x2

To turn the tide, in our numbers;
the final will fall - they have our fear
We have the will
A battle cry will sound out
shrill against the night
and with it our retribution;

the warren is empty x 5